


Of Foolish Pain and Painful Fools

by RosaClearwater



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: But not too fluffy mind, Fluffier than it sounds I promise, Gen, Pre-Relationship, These are stubbornly foolish people we're talking about after all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-30
Updated: 2018-10-30
Packaged: 2019-08-11 07:08:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16471064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosaClearwater/pseuds/RosaClearwater
Summary: For a house that normally brewed vigorously with energy, it was just so fitting thatthiswould be the time she would take a fall down the stairs.





	Of Foolish Pain and Painful Fools

She must’ve made this trip hundreds, if not _thousands,_ of times. It was an exercise in motion that Elsie Hughes could quite possibly perform in her sleep if she had to.

 

Not that anyone would believe her by this point.

 

And she would have had more to say on the matter, if not for the sharp pain digging itself further and further into her foot at the moment. That, and the lightheaded feeling that-- that -- well, it was doing something every time she moved and so she gave up on trying to describe it.

 

For now, she was content to let out a few choice words whilst trying to figure out what the next step was in this mess. Testing her ankle’s mobility was out of the question, that she learned within the first few minutes. Attempting any other movement would only result in frustration and further pain.

 

And the worst part of this whole stupid episode was that there wasn’t supposed to be a soul in the vicinity for at least several hours. Which meant she was stuck here for who knows how long.

 

For a house that normally brewed vigorously with energy, it was just so fitting that _this_ would be the time she would take a fall down the stairs.

 

Fortunately, it had only been a few steps.

 

Unfortunately, she would not be getting up any time soon.

 

_._

 

It seems that being knocked off balance for no particular reason also resulted in occasionally daydreaming, as well as that wretched pain and lightheadedness.

 

And, even though Elsie did know it was painful to move for the first few minutes, she still felt obligated to at least try now that--

 

“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” Upon attempting to move her leg, the level of pain racing from her foot and throughout her body politely reminded her that this was not the time to attempt further movement.

 

Instead, now was the time to continue breathing and hope that Thomas wouldn’t be the one to find her.

 

_._

_I promise that I will actually allow the poor soul who finds me the opportunity to help me. Furthermore, I promise that I will let them take charge of the situation -- so long as it isn’t Thomas._

 

_._

 

... At the rate it was taking to be found, her skeleton would waiting in this spot instead of her.

 

_._

 

_Not only do I promise to accept any form of assistance, I also promise to be as patient as I can with the current circumstance as it is._

 

_._

 

Truly, she’d be long gone by the time they actually found her.

 

And, by this point, Elsie found herself unable to care.

 

_._

 

Judging from the footsteps that suddenly came to a stuttering stop only a few meters away, help was finally here.

 

“Mrs. Hughes, what on Earth is the matter?”

 

_Oh, isn’t this just perfect?_

 

_._

 

Well, it wasn’t Thomas.

 

Which was something, even if it wasn’t much.

 

She liked Thomas, she truly did. It was just the fact that relying on him meant potentially involving her self in future endeavors that would most certainly border on the impertinent and the scandalously indecorous -- and, good heavens, when did her conscience sound like Mr. Carson?

 

Speaking of her dearest friend, the pain she’d been in was instantly tossed aside for sheer embarrassment that said dearest friend -- of all possible suspects, too -- was to be the first person to discover her.

 

Well, this was certainly _not_ her day.

 

Still, it’d be best to just get the whole thing over with.

 

“I fell, Mr. Carson.” Unfortunately, her declaration was muffled by mortification and so didn’t quite reach the butler’s ears.

 

“I’m sorry; what was it you said?”

  
  
“I fell.” She repeated through now gritted teeth.

 

“You fell?”

  
  
“ _Yes,_ Mr. Carson,” The brogue was more pronounced even in that short statement. So pronounced was it that it caused the most intimidating person in the house to take a step back. “I fell and apparently hurt myself in the process.” This led to further mutterings in a brogue that was getting harder and harder for the now perturbed butler to understand.

 

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Hughes, but _you_ fell?” It was a mistake to ask, he knew that before he said anything. Yet, Charles couldn’t help but ask it in any case.

 

However, judging from the narrowed slits that would normally be classified as eyes, it was even _more_ of a mistake than normal.

 

“Mr. Carson,” The prim tone came back instantaneously, strengthened by pure vexation. “Do you think I make a habit of winding up at the foot of these stairs?”

 

He had no proper response to this and certainly nothing that would help the situation. Still, this was Charles Carson. And Charles Carson couldn’t just let his friend suffer without attempting to offer some form of assistance.

 

“Should I call for Dr. Clarkson?”

  
  
“Certainly not!” At his look of utter disbelief, she huffed out an explanation. “The bone did not break and there’s no blood. What could he possibly do for the situation, except to create another disturbance for his Lordship?”

 

Now, she had meant to acquiesce to any form of help offered, truly. However, now that said help had actually arrived -- in the form of a flustered butler who currently awkwardly stood over her without a clue as to what to actually do… she had to rescind her intention to accept just _any_ type of aid.

 

“Mrs. Hughes, I don’t believe your ankle is supposed to be that swollen.”

 

“No?” She couldn’t help it, the sardonic sound begged to be released at such a statement. “Well, I’m sure it’s just fine.”

 

Unfortunately, it was not just fine -- as evidenced by his immediately calling out for her when she failed to properly adjust herself and get up.

 

(Said failed adjustment resulted in an unusually apparent wince and hiss, the type that only came when pain and fools were involved.)

 

“Mrs. Hughes, I really believe that--” But his words were not getting through to the stubborn Scot. After all, she was still in the process of defiantly pushing herself off the ground. “Mrs. Hughes, please be reasonable!”

 

She was certainly not going to be reasonable if it meant being mother-henned for however long it was deemed "necessary". For, even though Dr. Clarkson had always treated her like the adult she was, his presence being associated with hers meant “Are you quite sure you’re alright, Mrs. Hughes?” would be coming round the corner soon enough. Furthermore, “Mrs. Hughes, surely Anna or one of the other servants would be able to do that” would be accompanying it, which meant being boxed up and put away in her room for God knows how long for something that shouldn’t even be that big of a deal.

 

In short, it was these piercing thoughts that pushed shaking hands to move. It was these resolute thoughts that brought an obstinate glint to her eyes, these blunt reminders that gave her the steely determination to--

 

“Elsie, please.”

 

When had Mr. Carson decided to kneel beside her in such an atypical fashion, with his hand out to stop her in her tracks?

 

“Please don’t try to move.”

 

When had his face turned to that shade of concern?

 

“Please,”

 

When had his eyes had cause, in recent times, to be that close to hers?

 

“Let me help.”

 

It wasn’t the kneeling that brought forth the capitulation -- though that did help the matters. It wasn’t even the fact that he was reaching out to her, offering his version of steadiness amid the waves of pain rippling through her body.

 

It was the fact that, in all their decades of working together, he finally called her by Christian name.

 

And though it took a minute, frigid eyes softened at this display. The resolved determination began to crack in its permanence. And, slowly, she lowered herself back to the ground. 

 

“Thank you.”

 

A sarcastic response was ready to be fired at the man, a defensive snark was ready to respond to his gratitude. But upon a second thought, she tossed aside the biting remark in favor for something a little different. Something that would hopefully complement his appreciated support throughout this ghastly situation.

 

“No, Mr. Carson.” He frowned at this, obviously confused.

 

But she met his eyes with a smile and a willingness to let him steady her for a change.

 

“Thank you.”  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Having been in a similar predicament only a week or two ago, I sympathize with Mrs. Hughes greatly (though, I confess to slight jealously that she had Mr. Carson in her own situation). In any case, I hope you have a lovely day!


End file.
